


Childish Things

by Butterfly



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-30
Updated: 2004-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childish Things

**Author's Note:**

> Written after _Asylum_ aired.

_Clark opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a flash of blinding white. A quick blink, his vision clears, and he realizes that it's the light from Lex's electrocution._

Clark used to long for the peaceful dreams from before.

His dreams had always been incredibly vivid and they stayed in his mind long after he woke up.

They were so real, so perfect in every detail. He'd been able to taste the soft peach of Lana's lipgloss (she always wore less make-up in his dreams, and her voice was lighter), or savor the warm, sweet slide of chocolate on his tongue as he licked up Chloe's stomach (she laughed at him, her body tightening with pleasure and need). Pete's hands would feel solid and warm as they stroked up Clark's back, and Pete's skin always tasted of friendship and trust (Pete never laughed at him in his dreams, but always looked at him like they shared a secret).

He can't remember anymore which dreams made him float.

 _Lionel hovers over Lex, stroking his face in some twisted parody of fatherhood. There's a pause, a stillness in the air, then Clark's hand lands on the glass separating him from Lex, slick-smooth under his fingertips, and he watches as Lionel pulls Lex's soul out through his mouth._

Clark used to spend hours analyzing each and every moment of his dreams, trying to find a key, to see if they led to his past.

The first change came with Lex and with the accident.

Once he knew the truth, a strange dissonance crept up in his dreams. Lana's kisses turned harder and the peach-flavor became iron and rust (she closed her eyes as they kissed, and whimpered a soft 'yes'). Chloe wore a sheet now and her laughter had turned mocking (she'd slid her hands down his body and bite her lip as she looked up at him, her eyes red). Pete's skin turned bitter in his mouth and eventually he stopped trying to taste it (Pete wouldn't touch him anymore, his hands staying at his sides, immobile and unmoved). So, instead Clark would dream of lying on the loving warmth of this planet, feeling everything else that moved across the earth (the ground would cushion him as if made for his body, as if it, too, had adopted him). He would hug Lex and feel the slide of fabric under his hand, always just one layer away from skin - the barrier that even his dreams wouldn't let him cross.

His dreams had shifted to accommodate his new reality.

 _The glass breaks, and it isn't until Lionel turns around that Clark realizes that he's walked through it. Broken dreams rain down around him, and he doesn't bleed. Each step toward Lex feels like a sickening mix of fear and want, Clark's gaze is locked on Lex's closed eyes, and with each step, he silently begs for them to open._

Clark used to be terrified of what his darker dreams meant.

Cassandra and her vision brought a new aspect to his dreams, and soon, the new violence dominated them. Lana's kisses tasted of blood ('never tell' his mother's voice would warn) and Chloe giggled as her skin bubbled up with heat and death ('you should know better,' his father scolded). Pete fell to pieces in his hands ('be careful,' his mother's voice would chide). The entire earth crumbled when he tried to find peace in it ('did you think you belonged?' his father asked). In the end, his dreams focused on Lex, bloody and screaming, surrounded by tombstones as Clark carefully explained that the rest of the world was buried beneath them. Rain soaked them both to the skin, and sometimes Lex's clothes were cleaned away with the blood.

Lex never said anything in his dreams.

 _Lionel's trying to speak, but all of Clark's focus is on Lex, who isn't moving. When Lionel tries keep him from Lex, Clark picks him up and tosses him over his shoulder, barely registering the whimper of pain from Lionel as he smashes against the floor. Clark finally reaches Lex's side, and he finds himself hesitating, one hand reaching out and almost touching Lex._

Clark used to wish that he could go back to the way things were before.

He'd long since learned that he could shift his dreams if he tried hard enough. Whenever one of the dying dreams started, all Clark needed to do was focus. Eventually, he would spot the glow of a meteor rock, and the dream would change. The only dream that he couldn't end was the one with Lex. It only grew longer and more real with every repetition. Soon, when Lex's clothes had melted away in the rain, Clark knew that the next step was to pull Lex with him, down against the cold and unwelcoming earth, to arch up against Lex until the cold left and the earth stopped pushing him away.

The dreams always stopped before the _really_ good part.

 _Finally, he forces himself to close the distance, and his hand is the one on Lex's cheek. He can still feel the heat of electricity, and Clark has to force himself not to take a step back. He's about to tear loose the restraints when pain ripples through him. He glances at Lionel, who lies on the broken glass, small red cuts all over his face and hands, a brick of refined Kryptonite held triumphantly before him._

Clark used to think that he could stop being a freak, if he just tried hard enough, if he hid deeply enough.

When the Lex dreams stopped, Clark found himself both relieved and disappointed. He didn't have to see Lex screaming in pain, but he also didn't get to see Lex screaming in joy. And these flying dreams were just as disturbing in their own way - he'd never sleepwalked before, after all. And he just knew that they had to mean something, because they felt surreal, real in a way that was more memory than dream.

Clark was slowly learning that the only person he couldn't lie to was himself.

 _Clark looks at Lex, who lies still on the table. Then Clark pushes away the shivers of weakness and leans down to brush a kiss over Lex's cheek, his lips reveling in the minute imperfections of Lex's skin. Finally, Lex's eyes open to meet his, but when they do, they're china-doll blank. A soft whisper of protest escapes Clark, then a tiny exhalation of apology, before he turns his face back towards Lionel._

Clark used to think that everyone deserved a second chance.

After Metropolis, Clark's dreams became subdued. They were faint and easily forgotten, the way they seemed to be for most humans. At first, he'd thought it was because he'd accepted himself. That the earlier dreams must have been some kind of self-inflicted punishment. Once he started to dream again, he tried to blame it on Sarah, but in his heart, he knew that he'd been right the first time.

He's only getting what he deserves.

 _Clark's vision glows crimson and emerald, and when he blinks again, Lionel is crumpled bone and ash, as the liquid Kryptonite starts spreading across the floor, heated past melting point. Clark falls to his knees, holding tightly onto the metal table, feeling it wrap around his fingers, his vision blurring as the pain increases, as his heart beats in time with the flickering of green light. The pool of poison touches one knee, and he opens his mouth to howl in agony and despair._

Clark used to believe that he was human, back when he was just a kid.

He knows better now.


End file.
